“Actually, I’m notthatgood a man.” With a few running steps, he swung his fist right into Tilbury’s nose, relished the crack of bone on bone, then walked into the woods. Alone.
Chapter Seventeen
Tessa found Remmy a half hour later right where she knew she would and settled next to him on the ground, leaning her back against the moss-covered side of their rock.
He’d discarded his cravat and jacket and unbuttoned his waistcoat. He sat with one leg bent, arm propped atop his knee and the other leg extended toward the lake where he seemed to study the horizon.
“I’m leaving. Your mother is sending me in a carriage to the rectory soon.”
He tore up strands of grass and tossed them just as quickly.
She reached for his hand—red and raw and swollen.
He flinched away from her touch.
“It needs tending, Remmy.”
“I don’t care.”
His words felt like fists thrown at her, and she turned from him, pulled her knees up to her chest beneath her skirts.
She should have been appalled at Remmy’s violence. She’d been thrilled. No one but Remmy had ever fought for her.
Her parents had merely sustained her, tended her like a plant in the garden behind the rectory. Lady Chattaway had cultivated her, loved her in her own way, but the lady saw who she wanted Tessa to be, not who Tessa was.
Remmy had always seen Tessa, had always wanted for her whatshewanted. He didn’t simply tend to her most basic needs, he uplifted her soul. He tried to beat down with his bare fists anything—anyone—he saw threatening it.
“You should have left,” he said. “There’s no reason to speak again.”
But there was. Her friend had given her his whole heart, and he deserved this gift in return. It was the only thing she could give him.
“I realized something as you punched Tilbury.” She focused on the water rippling across the lake. Easier than looking at him. “I… I found it possibly… embarrassingly… arousing.”
He lifted a single eyebrow and looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Arousing?”
“Yes, but that is not the revelation I speak of. For some reason”—she licked her lips—“I realized when you were breaking Mr. Tilbury’s nose?—”
“Is it broken?”
“I do not know. Will you let me finish?”
He lifted his chin, a sign to continue.
“As I was saying, I realized while you were possibly breaking his nose that…” Another deep breath before she jumped. “That I love you.”
He snorted. “Don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what?” Not at all the reaction she’d expected.
“Do not tell me what you think I want to hear. Do not pity me.”
“That’s not what I’m doing!”
“Yes, it is.”
“It’s not! I realized when I saw Tilbury’s blood running down his face… I love you. I love you so much, I would have bloodied Tilbury’s nose myself if he had hurt you.”
“How can you know me all your life and only in a single moment of spilt blood realize how you feel?”
